Page 14 of Longing for Liberty

EIGHT

Over six years ago…

Jeremy’s brother, Aidan, and his wife had left the country the day before with Jeremy’s parents.

They’d been smart and liquidated their savings last week while we were busy with soccer games and an elementary school play.

Looking back, I felt both marvel and disgust at how life rambled on while the country fell apart.

Inside our community, life was quiet and seemed normal, despite our worries and the things we knew were happening at the government level.

Things just…kept going. Like the way an octopus’s tentacles twitched after its head was chopped, giving the illusion it was still alive.

For years, the news had constantly covered a myriad of attacks on U.S.

soil from both foreign and domestic terrorists, but since social media had been shut down, we didn’t get any commentary or alternative views.

We learned things through word-of-mouth.

Living so close to Washington, D.C., Aidan had a federal worker friend who told him the market was about to crash. Again. But worse this time.

I figured he was being overly cautious when he told us to get our money out, but when we went to the bank, I’d never seen it so busy.

A line was out the door. People grumbled into their phones and argued.

A disturbance started inside, raised voices, and we all craned our necks to try to see what was going on.

Finally, a woman in a suit came out and yelled.

“Everyone, listen up! We’ve run out of cash—” I gasped in surprise, and everyone started to talk, but she shouted over us. “Don’t panic! We are expecting a shipment in the next two days. If you’re here for cash, you’ll have to come back!”

Jeremy and I looked at each other when we were back in the car.

His family had already left the country as a precaution, but now it felt like more of a necessity.

We had tickets to join them in two weeks after we’d had a chance to sell off as many belongings as possible, but that felt too far away now. A sense of urgency filled me.

“What do you want to do?” he asked.

I pressed my palm to my chest, considering our options. “I know Aidan says the banks can freeze all of our cards and assets, but do you really think that will happen?”

He shook his head, a furrow between his brows. “I don’t know. But if they do, we’re broke.”

My intuition was screaming for us to run as fast as we could. But we wouldn’t get far without money. “Okay,” I told him, picking up my phone. I’m going to change our tickets to two days from now. We’ll get our cash and go.”

He agreed. As he drove, I searched for tickets. Baltimore. Washington Reagan Airport. Dulles Airport.

“Shit!” I said, my heart thunking like a hard ball ricocheting back and forth inside my ribs. “Literally, every flight is full in all the local airports. Let me expand.”

I expanded, and expanded again, my fingers flying frantically. As we pulled into our driveway, I stared blankly at the phone in disbelief as panic fluttered like a sickly bird in my chest.

Then I did a quick map check and time calculation.

“What?” he asked. “What did you find?”

“There’s nothing open for domestic airports, like the whole country!

Everyone must be trying to get out. We have to drive all the way up to Toronto, Canada.

There’s one flight with openings two days from now.

It’s at ten PM, and it’s normally an eight-hour drive.

” Which meant at least eleven hours with stops and traffic if we were lucky.

Thank God we had updated passports from a family cruise last year.

Hopefully, Canada was letting people cross.

“Buy them.” He put the car in park. “We’ll get to the bank before sunrise to be the first in line and go straight from there.”

I nodded.

It was such a relief to have a plan.

The next day, Jeremy waited at the bank all day while I stayed home and packed, but the cash drop didn’t come.

When the next morning came, we were not the first in line at five AM.

People had stayed overnight. We took our place on the asphalt and sat like many others, sipping coffee from travel mugs.

I leaned my head on Jeremy’s shoulder, and we watched the sun come up through landscaped trees and buildings.

We hadn’t slept well the past two nights.

It was madness to be abandoning everything we knew and fleeing.

I’d always had a bleeding heart for refugees but never imagined I would be one.

At eight-forty-five, everyone stood and stretched, preparing for the doors to open in fifteen minutes. A buzz of anticipation was in the spring air. As nine o’clock approached, we all began looking around and getting fidgety.

“Is there a back door?” I asked Jeremy. “I haven’t seen any employees go in.”

It was like the entire crowd realized at once. People ran to the glass, peering in and yelling, banging on the windows. I heard a man shout, “Nobody’s in there!” Some people ran for their cars, speeding off, but most stayed.

Stubbornly, we waited fifteen minutes. Thirty. Forty-Five. I was nauseated, and every time someone shouted or people started to fight, my blood pressure rose.

“They’re not coming,” I told Jeremy, who still looked hopeful.

“Fifteen more minutes,” he begged.

But my intuition was screaming. I shook my head, already moving. “We have to go. Now. Let’s grab our things and get on the road.”

We were nearly home when Jeremy got a text from Aidan in Italy. He pressed the truck’s dash screen to have it read out loud.

“ Dude WTF why did two missiles get shot from Norfolk to DC??? The US is attacking its own self? Are you guys okay? ”

Jeremy and I shot each other wide-eyed looks.

“What is he talking about?” he asked as I shook my head, my stomach plummeting. Another text came.

“ And nukes from somewhere in the Midwest?? The news here says parts of Canada, Mexico, and California were just hit. You need to get out! ”

“Oh my God,” I whispered. That couldn’t be right.

Jeremy’s brows were drawn in a perplexed expression as he pulled the car over to read the texts more carefully. We were reading them when both of our phones suddenly blasted with jarring alerts.

The screen flashed with a message:

United States Government Alert: Remain calm. Follow all rules of the road as you return to your homes immediately and await instructions. You have one hour to clear all streets and public places. This is a mandatory curfew. Return to your residence immediately.

“I need to call my mom.” I tried to click out of the message, but it was stuck. When it finally went away, I frantically opened my phone app, but the call wouldn’t go through. What the hell was going on?

“I have no signal,” Jeremy said. “I can’t text Aidan back.”

“Me neither. No calls.” I checked. “No apps or internet.”

“Let me try my hotspot…” Jeremy pulled down the screen, then shook his head. “Nothing! What the fuck?”

Another blaring alert made me yelp this time and almost drop my phone. I fumbled to read the new message.

United States Government Alert: The country is under attack. All borders are closed and air traffic is halted. Return to your homes immediately and await further instructions. You have one hour. Anyone in public after the one-hour curfew will be detained.

No. No, no, no, nononono?—

All of the blood from my head seemed to drain out, making me dizzy.

“Libby?” His voice was panicked, a sound I’d only heard once before when Rainey was choking on a grape, and he’d yelled my name right before he ran over and did the Heimlich.

He reached for my hand, but I pulled away, yanking open the door and stumbling out just in time to lose my morning coffee all over the sidewalk.

* * *

United States Government Alert: Your area is being evacuated.

All citizens will be temporarily moved to safe zones until the threat passes.

Report to your local high school immediately.

Bring only what you need. One lap-bag each.

No guns or weapons are permitted. This is a mandatory temporary evacuation.

You have one hour. Any citizen resisting evacuation will be detained.

If you are physically unable to evacuate or you have pets, place a cloth over your doorknob or front door.

Help for the disabled and pets is being dispatched. All able-bodied must evacuate.

That was the alert that hit when we walked through our front door.

I was not okay.

The kids. My babies.

I still hadn’t spoken to my mom, whose house was across town, and I had no idea when we’d be able to meet up with them. Every street corner had flashing police lights, and it looked like military personnel had been dispatched.

We each threw two changes of clothes, some toiletries, snacks, and bottles of water into bags before running outside. Damari and Paola were also at their car, trying to strap their kids in. We ran over to them. I heard Jeremy telling Damari about the texts from Aidan.

I hugged Paola, who had tears in her eyes when I pulled away.

“Have you talked to your mom yet?” she asked.

I shook my head, my face pinched, and she squeezed my hand.

“I’m sure everything is okay.”

I nodded a little too hard. “Yeah. Of course. Do you guys have everything?”

Damari patted the hood of their SUV. “Let’s go.”

“We’ll follow you,” Jeremy told him.

When we got to the high school, yellow buses were lined up with a table out front manned by police. We passed through a station where we were patted down and scanned for weapons. An old lady held a fluffy white dog and was arguing with a cop. The whole parking lot was chaos.

As we waited in line, I took a squirming baby Clara into my arms and bounced her. At the front of the line, we gave our names and they found us on a clipboard. The police looked at Jeremy and then Damari.

“You’re in bus 203,” he said to Jeremy. “And you’re 5608,” to Damari.

I poked my head between the men. “Can we stay together?”